Tune Teef

I remember going into that music shop

Going to the top floor

Taking pictures of the notation

Before leaving with no money spent

But a pocket full of score. 

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I told you all about it,

You said, it was illegal,

I said, I doubt it,

You said, it is. It’s not evil,

Just theft. 

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I didn’t know I broke the law

For treble clef. 

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It was only two months later,

That my jaw swung right to left,

My face hung up in supermarket

Walls of shame,

And I spunked more money than I would’ve

In that music shop

On scores and sheets 

And dancing beats

That rode my brain. 

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I stopped playing keyboard. 

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I deleted those photos;

Removed the evidence 

That splashed around

My cold toes. 

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Went into the leaping streets

Then into bedsheets, comatose,

Picked motive over Mozart

And baked over Bach,

Chopping powder over Chopin,

And gave in talent for a laugh. 

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But I wrote more poetry than I could’ve

If I hadn’t done that trade,

And now I’m sober again, after all these years,

I’ve finally returned to the stolen page. 

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My fingers found the keys with ease

Hovered over melodies not under nose

Reckoned I’d forget my ingrained understanding,

Of the staves, the placement, the handling

But I was just unpracticed and scared,

So it just goes to show… 

(I hope not. I have no piece prepared) 

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By Lyric Deep.